


believe me, darling, the stars were made for falling

by Anonymous



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Not Beta Read, Self-Esteem Issues, Sleep Deprivation, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:34:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25725214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Bad things happened when Goshiki pulled all-nighters.It was as definitive a statement as ‘the sky is blue’, ‘water is wet’, ‘grass is green’.All-nighters were bad.
Relationships: Goshiki Tsutomu & Shiratorizawa Academy Volleyball Club, Goshiki Tsutomu/Tendou Satori
Comments: 20
Kudos: 273
Collections: Anonymous





	believe me, darling, the stars were made for falling

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a hot minute since i've posted at this hour of the night. (my revision history states that i started writing this 2 months ago exclusively between the hours of midnight and 2 am.) i've been digging through my drafts and finishing up a bunch of nearly-done fics but so many of them are really fucking sad. once again, i've proven that i am only capable of writing comedic fluff and tearworthy angst with no in-between.
> 
> partially inspired by [2 nights, 3 days by russiansunflower3.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16343201)
> 
> more specific content warnings in end notes.

_Bad things happened when Goshiki pulled all-nighters._

_It was as definitive a statement as ‘the sky is blue’, ‘water is wet’, ‘grass is green’._

_All-nighters were bad._

Ushijima spiked a ball directly into his face.

_Very bad._

“Goshiki!” Washijou barked.

Goshiki just barely held in a sigh of exhaustion, preparing himself to be mentally ripped to pieces.

He jogged over to the bench. “Yes, coach.”

* * *

It wasn’t like he meant to. Really.

Shiratorizawa’s normal academic workload on top of volleyball practice was, frankly, a lot. It also didn’t give him a lot of time to make friends outside of the team and as much as he loved them—they were all his seniors.

It would be nice to be treated as a person rather than a child. 

(That’s a bit of an exaggeration. The team was a lot better about it than they used to be, but—but it was something they never let him forget.)

(And, well. They were going to leave him behind. When they graduated.)

(He didn’t want to be left behind.)

(He didn’t want to be alone again.)

(...)

Yesterday, a group of first-years invited Goshiki to watch a movie with him. He had a lot of homework, but he pushed that thought aside. He wasn’t sure when he’d get a chance like this again, and he just wanted to live a little for once. No harm in wanting to enjoy his high school experience.

By the time he returned to his room, it was in-dorms and he hadn’t even started his homework yet, but he figured it would be fine. Right? Wrong.

He had somehow forgotten an enormous 2-week long English project that was due tomorrow. Not only was it already his worst subject; it accounted for a quarter of his grade, and if he failed any of his classes he could be removed from the team.

  
If he was removed from the team, he lost his scholarship. And if he lost his scholarship, he had to go back to that… to that _house._

He felt overwhelmed.

Like his throat had been reduced to hollow reeds and plastic straws and he couldn’t breathe, God _I need to breathe._

He stopped. He tried to think. He rationalized. 

_It’s just one all-nighter. You can do this. It’s not like you haven’t done it before._

_But things were different then._

He squeezed his eyes shut.

_If anything, shouldn’t it be easier now?_

So Goshiki set a twenty-minute timer to cry and angrily berate himself and when it went off, he got right back to work.

So what if his roommate thought he was a freak. It didn’t seem to be too uncommon of a notion.

He worked and he worked and he worked and _hey I finished by some miracle but oh no the sun is up and I’m late for morning practice._

It was a rather conspicuous omen.

He tried to comfort himself with the fact he would, at the very least, not be failing English.

* * *

Goshiki knew he always looked to his seniors for approval, and not doing so today would make it blatant that something was wrong.

He just didn’t have the energy for it.

Or the strength.

He had stubbornly ignored all eye contact with his team that morning, not particularly confident in his current self-esteem. If he turned his head to one of his senpai just to see a look of disapproval, he might have actually broken into tears in the middle of the gym. 

Usually, it would push him to work harder, but when he was as emotionally stable as a stack of cheap cards, he couldn't take his chances.

(If Goshiki had been paying attention, he would’ve realized that he was receiving worried and concerned looks, not looks of blame.)

(Honestly, it might be a good thing. He would’ve cried harder.)

Goshiki made it through the entire morning in a daze.

* * *

He should’ve figured they would corner him at lunch.

“Goshiki? Is there something wrong?” 

“Huh?” Goshiki peered at Reon and blinked slowly. His brain was working a little too erratically to process his words, especially in an acceptable time frame. “Yes! I’m fine,”

“You sure? You seemed a little… _off_ today,”

_Off._

Goshiki flushed with embarrassment and looked in the other direction, flashing back to each mistake he made during practice. _I wonder which one he’s thinking about._ “My performance was lacking but I-I swear I’ll do better next practice,” he trailed off into a whisper.

(Reon froze from where he was eating. He chanced a look at Hayato who looked similarly disturbed.)

_(Why is that his first reaction?)_

_(Have we been too harsh on him?)_

Hayato reached over and mussed up Goshiki’s hair affectionately. He twitched underneath the touch, but Hayato pulled back before he had the chance to think into it. Goshiki was so out of it he didn’t even try to fix his hair. He just sighed and went back to staring blankly at his food.

(Hayato and Reon exchanged another worried look.)

Hayato cleared his throat. “Goshiki, you’re allowed to have off days. I have off-days, Semi has off-days, even Ushijima has days where he isn’t quite up to par.” Goshiki hummed to show he was listening, even if he couldn’t care less.

_Wrong. Wrong. Wrong._

“We’re not talking about your effort, we’re talking about your health, yeah?”

Goshiki nodded.

_I’m a liability like this._

His head was stuffed with cotton.

His vision blurred in and out of focus, blacking out periodically.

His words tasted like copper in his mouth.

_(There is something wrong with me.)_

The team trickled in for lunch.

“Oi, you going to eat your food?” Semi elbowed him playfully, but his words were stern. “Where’d that appetite of yours go? You can’t seriously think you’re going to practice on an empty stomach,”

“Of course not!” he argued hotly. He actually felt stung by the accusation, even if it was true. “I take everything seriously!” 

(He missed the collective sigh of relief when his usual personality cropped up.)

This outburst inadvertently directed all his teammates' eyes toward him. He nervously picked up his chopsticks.

(Eating after all-nighters was difficult for two reasons.)

(One: Nausea. He was so nauseous he heaved up his breakfast some point during his second class, and he wasn’t confident that he’d be able to keep it down right now. His appetite wasn’t exactly doing well either.)

(Two: Shaking. The second reason he’d avoided eating was because his hands wouldn’t stop fucking shaking.)

Goshiki frowned and clenched his hand into and out of a fist, as if it would steady him.

It didn’t work.

(It never did.)

Exaggerating his movements, he quickly dug into his rice despite the protests of his stomach. _That’s a problem for me during 6th-period history_. He prayed it would be enough for Semi to drop the topic.

It wasn’t. 

“Goshiki, hey, you’re—you’re shaking,” He tilted his head, eyebrows quirked and lips pouting, the perfect face of pity. “Are you sick or something?”

Goshiki froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” And _dammit all_ being put on the spot was making him anxious enough that he started shaking even more. _Goodbye, subtlety._

“I can see you vibrating from here,” Shirabu complained, and now, really, everyone’s eyes were on him. “You’re like a small dog. You better not give us the flu or something,”

The team groaned. Living in close quarters with a bunch of high schoolers meant that when someone got sick, everyone got it, and everyone started to complain about things they had caught living in the dorms. 

Goshiki shriveled up a bit, curling into himself, hoping he could just—disappear. He knew it wasn’t contagious, but he wasn’t in the mood to receive a dressing-down about his sleep habits either. “I’m not sick. This isn’t—it’s not—” 

“Goshiki, you should know by now the importance of your health,” Soekawa scolded.

“Do you possibly have low blood sugar?” Ushijima asked. “That can lead to tremors,”

Goshiki’s throat constricted. Looked like he’d get that lecture whether he wanted it or not.

“Take it easy on the caffeine too,”

“Are you sure you’re not sick? Is it hereditary?”

“When’s the last time you went to the infirmary?”

“Gotta take of yourself, Mr. Future Ace.”

“Stress can often lead to shaking; if you want I have some books on the subject—“

Goshiki snapped.

It wasn’t loud, or dramatic, or really a snap at all. He had just been pushed past his limits.

“I’m. _Fine_ ,” he snarled.

His whole body was trembling by now. Hard.

They stared.

Goshiki’s voice went soft. “Please. Stop,” He winced as his voice cracked. Hesitantly, he went back to poking at his rice. “...It’s fine,” he repeated.

“Bullshit,” Shirabu scoffed, and Goshiki didn’t have time to react before he grabbed him by the wrist.

_Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop—_

It was too familiar.

_It hurts, make it stop, it hurts, make it stop, it hurts, make it stop, it hurts--_

The grip on his wrist was far too familiar.

“Shirabu. Let go of me,” he said, panic bubbling up in his throat. He jerked his hand away but Shirabu’s grip only got tighter and Goshiki could _feel_ the beginning of a panic prickling his skin.

_Make it stop, you promised, make it stop, you promised, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop—_

How could he forget such an important part of all-nighters? Uncontrollable panic attacks. Wonderful.

Shirabu hid his affection behind a crude façade and a demeaning personality, but it was hard to see through all of those layers right now. “No way. Seriously, you guys should see for yourselves, he’s like an earthquake—“

“Please! It’s not that bad!”

“What do you mean it’s not that bad, have you looked in a fucking mirror? You need to take care of yourself,”

Goshiki’s eyes darted around in panic, catching Tendou’s gaze and sending him a silent plea. “Please, stop—“

“Shirabu, don’t you think you’re being a bit much?” Tendou drawled, starting to look concerned.

“What? No.” Shirabu waves off. He turns back to Goshiki. “ _You,_ stop acting like a child,“ Shirabu reached his free hand over to his face, probably to pinch his cheek or something equally demeaning.

_Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop—!_

Purely instinctual, Goshiki flinched back and shielded himself with his free hand, letting out a scared sound and anticipating _pain pain pain pain pain._

Shirabu finally let go.

“...I-I wasn’t going to,” Shirabu trailed off, uncertain.

_Did I just do that in front of the whole team?_

Goshiki looked around the table and yes, he did just do that in front of the whole team and now they were all upset. Shirabu’s tray had been knocked over by his elbow in the process and sent flying, and he could only stare at his mess.

_Nothing shattered. It’s plastic. It can’t break the same way. No one will hurt you. No one will hurt you. No one will hurt you._ He inhaled deeply. _Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop—_

Calmly, he stood up, ignoring his friend’s shocked looks. He quickly gathered up all of the cutlery and dishes and put them back on Shirabu’s tray. “Someone else can have my lunch,” he muttered, then stalked off as fast as he could without looking as if he were running away. 

Because that was the only thing he knew how to do.

When Goshiki burst out the doors into the main courtyard, he wasn’t surprised to hear footsteps following him. “Goshiki—“ Shirabu’s voice was filled with guilt. “Goshiki!”

Someone grabbed the back of his uniform blazer and he reacted as if it burned. 

He smacked the person away—Kawanishi—and took several steps back, putting space in between them. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed. 

He felt crazy. No, he didn’t just feel that way. He _was_ crazy.

His eyes darted between Kawanishi’s and Shirabu’s. A standoff.

Taichi took two steps forward.

Goshiki took four steps back.

And then, he broke out into a sprint.

* * *

“You fucked up, Shirabu.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,”

“... _Fuck.”_

“What?”

“God, I’ve never seen him look so scared in his life. I touched his back and it was like… like I scalded him, like it burned,”

“What happened?”

“I… I don’t know.”

* * *

Afternoon practice was equally if not more awkward. On the upside, Goshiki had been awake for a longer period of time, so he was more alert. He also managed to pound back a vending machine iced coffee. He loathed the taste of coffee but he found that it helped sometimes.

On the downside, the afternoon was a slump. A crash. And Goshiki crashed hard. He was also much more haggard as he prolonged the amount of time he had last gotten any sleep. 

His performance was subpar.

But his teammates were going easy on him. And it was pissing him off.

It was pissing Coach off too.

“You better not be going easy on him just because he’s doing poorly today!”

_Ouch._

“Coach, with all due respect, I don’t think Goshiki’s well.”

Goshiki stiffened. He wasn’t expecting Kawanishi of all people to bring it up, especially not so publicly, but he rarely spoke, so the few words he said were taken seriously.

Washijou blinked and gave a defeated sigh. “Come here, boy,”

Trying not to let his nerves show he stepped up to the chair he was sitting on.

Washijou squinted at him, his shaking limbs not lost on him. “...When’s the last time you slept?”

Goshiki winced. The eyebags must be making their guest appearance. Guilty as charged.

“Tsk. Don’t put the team in charge of picking up after you when you’re slacking off. Your actions don’t only affect you, it affects this team.”

Goshiki nodded. _Am I… not enough?_

“What was it? Were you slacking off and watching anime? Were you having a sleepover with your friends? Were you just staring at your phone all night?”

Goshiki didn’t want to be ridiculed for being stupid, so he simply didn’t say the truth at all, chewing the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. Coach clicked his tongue.

“Answer me,”

“I…”

“You can’t operate like this when you’re older. Your youth will only last you so long. Grow up. There won’t be anyone to baby you in the real world—“

His words tapered off.

Goshiki was crying.

Silently, because old habits die hard, but it wasn’t exactly subtle.

Washijou could only stare.

“Y-yes coach,” Goshiki choked out.

Washijou narrowed his eyes, eagle-eyed and critical. He jerked his head to the side. “Go,” _You’re of no use today._

Goshiki calmly turned and walked off the court, tears still trailing down his chin.

He may or may not have punched a locker on the way back to his dorms.

_Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop—_

He felt a vicious sort of satisfaction watching his knuckles bleed and bruise.

* * *

_Knock knock knock._

“Tsutomu-chan~! I know you’re in there, open up!”

Goshiki groaned and covered his head with his pillow. He just wanted to catch up on his sleep—he wanted to feel like a real person again—but the adrenaline in his veins was still pumping.

(‘The human body produces adrenaline when you’re sleep-deprived.’ Useful to keep you going, not quite as useful when you’re trying to sleep.)

Besides. It was no use to ignore Tendou, who just got more insufferable the longer you ignored him, so, still swaddled in his blankets, he obediently padded over to his door and unlocked it.

“I figured you wouldn’t come to dinner,” Tendou said, uncharacteristically soft. With a cheeky grin, he held out an object with both of his hands, like he was about to give Goshiki a love letter. “Homemade, from the team,”

A bento. Wrapped in a furoshiki.

...It was delicately patterned with miniature volleyballs.

Goshiki's face went hot and his blood ran cold and his chest ached like his heart wasn’t big enough to handle all the love he had and wanted to give.

He shook his head. No, no he didn’t deserve that right now.

So Tsutomu just—

_SLAM._

—Closed the door.

“Wah—! _Tsutomu-chan!”_

...In Tendou’s face.

He heard his squawk of indignance loud and clear. Goshiki went for the lock, but his hands—which were still uselessly shaking—fumbled with the latch. Tendou was faster. He muscled his way into the first-year’s dorm room with sheer tenacity.

One particularly hard shove sent Goshiki sprawling to the floor. He let out a startled cry.

_It hurts, make it stop, it hurts, make it stop, it hurts, make it stop, it hurts--_

It was a motion a little too familiar for comfort.

“T-Tsutomu! Are you okay? I mean, rhetorical question. Ah, man, I didn’t try to—fuck!” Tendou babbled.

Goshiki, who was trying and failing to pick himself off the floor, went limp, giving up after the third time his arms gave out. “It’s fine,” He muttered, resolving himself to sleep on the hardwood.

“‘Tomu?” Tendou’s voice was directly in his ear. “C’mon kid, get up!”

_Kid._ If possible, Goshiki deflated even more. _Kid._

Suddenly, a pair of arms were underneath his cocoon of blankets and straining to lift him up. His limbs swayed back and forth as if he were a ragdoll, Tendou gently depositing him back onto his bed.

“...Anyways, do you want to eat the dinner we made? The entire team chipped in!” Tendou pouted. “Don’t let our hard work go to waste!”

“No thank you. I’m not hungry,” A partial lie, as he was now very hungry, but not in the mood to throw up again.

“C’moooon, it’s got your favorite~! Simmered flounder!” 

Goshiki furrowed his brow. “When did I even tell you...?”

Tendou grinned. “Taichi-chan told us!”

_I told him. I don’t remember telling him. I told him and he bothered to remember._ Goshiki blushed, and if the gleam in Tendou’s eye was anything to go by, it did not go unnoticed. _Why? Why were they all doing this? What do you have to gain from your kindness?_

The mattress dipped slightly as Tendou sat onto the bed next to him. “Can you eat it? For me?” His tone was as soft as Goshiki had ever seen, entirely too kind. It lit a fuse of indignance within him. “Then I’ll let you go back to sleep, I pinky promise,”

Goshiki made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat. “Just leave it here. I’ll eat it later,” His words felt brittle in his mouth, and he knew they sounded false. 

“You’ll eat it later, huh?” Tendou frowned. “Are you _sure?”_

Goshiki’s jaw clenched. “Positive.”

There was a tense silence. 

Tendou sighed. “ _Tsutomu._ I may be a freak but at least I’m not _stupid._ Listen, you don’t even need to eat all of it, just a few bites would—”

“Why are you doing all this?” Goshiki asked. Matter-of-fact. As neutral as possible. “Why do any of you even _bother?”_

Tendou’s face softened to a look of pity and Goshiki felt his blood boil. “Because we care about you…?”

Goshiki has had _enough._ “Stop! Stop it, okay! I know I fucked up! I know I did poorly! But that doesn’t mean I’m some sort of—some sort of _charity case._ I don’t need—” He went to smack the bento out of Tendou’s hand but thought better of it at the last minute, his arms shaking. “—whatever this is! I of all people know I’m not enough!”

Tendou pulled the bento closer to his body defensively but didn’t say anything, his red eyes fixing Goshiki with a beady stare. He betrayed none of his emotions, mouth pressed into a firm line and his hands balled into tight fists.

“I’m not enough yet! ...I don’t know if I’ll ever be enough!” Goshiki’s voice cracked and he found himself grabbing at his hair, trying in vain to push it out of his face. “I-I fucked up, you just—argh! It’s true, what Washijou said. I forced you guys to pick up after me because I was slacking off!” Tears falling, he pushed his palms into his eye sockets so hard he saw stars. “You don’t need to rub your pity in my face! I already feel so fucking stupid and inadequate all the time without it. I just—“

Tendou leaned forward and crushed him in a hug.

Goshiki stiffened, but for once, he didn’t flinch away. And he was all the more glad for it.

Unexpectedly sage, Tendou whispered, “You don’t need to explain everything. Just… cry. You’re allowed to cry, Tsu.”

Allowing himself the small luxury of being comforted, he finally, finally, relaxed into his senpai’s touch and just… let himself cry.

Weakly sobbing, Goshiki threw himself at Tendou, weeping into his shoulder. Tendou was all too content to hold him tight.

**Author's Note:**

> cw: sleep deprivation, implications of physical child abuse, panic attacks / dissociation (but nothing explicit/graphic). 
> 
> this was supposed to be ~1k words longer but i removed some of the angstier bits. yes, you heard that right, this was supposed to be _more sad._
> 
> please leave a comment on your way out. thank you for reading.


End file.
